


What Happens in Tampa Stays in Tampa

by aleksrothis



Series: Breaking The Ice [1]
Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Assorted Kink, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Gen, Impact Play, Implied Relationships, M/M, NHL All-Star Weekend, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sensation Play, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: For some the All-Star weekend is an opportunity to catch up with old friends, for others the chance to make new ones.*relationship and content tags don't apply to all chapters*Chapter One: IntroChapter Two: John Klingberg/Henrik LundqvistChapter Three: Tyler Seguin/Hilary KnightChapter Four: Sidney Crosby/Kris Letang/Marc-Andre Fleury/James NealChapter Five: Auston Matthews/Drew Doughty





	1. The Dallas Connection

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this but posting it before it times out of my drafts...
> 
> All events depicted are entirely fictional, though I've tried my best to be accurate to the timings and arrangements of the actual All-Star weekend.
> 
> Unbetaed, which means I'll probably spot a typo within an hour of posting.

Tyler settles down opposite Klinger on the plane to Tampa and, as many times as he's been to the All-Star weekend, it’s still weird to be flying to a game without the rest of the team. He's not even sure he deserves to be an All-Star this year over Jamie or Rads but he's really proud of Klinger for his selection and looking forward to getting to treat him as a rookie for the weekend.

Just before take-off Tyler gets a text and has to laugh at the pleading message from his former teammate. He looks over at the Swede, “Hey Klinger, you mind if I skip out on sharing a room with you to share with Marchy?”

Klinger looks up from his own phone. “Oh, for sure, that’s fine. I was going to ask you the same anyway. Henke’s asked me if I wanted to share with him?”

“Lundqvist?” Tyler keeps forgetting how many guys from other teams Klinger had played with at Worlds last summer. It almost made him wish he’d gone to play for Canada; Tyler still fondly remembers the celebrations from their gold in 2015.

Sweden had had quite a team last year and, though of course he’d been cheering on Canada in the final, he was still proud of his teammate for getting a gold medal. Only now he's reminded Klinger is going to join a decent Swedish contingent at the All-Star Game and Tyler is going to be the one left on the outside. He remembered what that had been like in Biel and he hadn’t liked it much.

“Yeah.” Klinger looks around as though to check the PR folks aren’t listening in and, when it's clear they are all busy, leans in. “You know, I don’t get a chance to go down much during the season.”

Tyler blinks in surprise, both that Klinger would say it out loud and that he's decided now is sub-bonding time, then double checks for eavesdroppers. “I know the feeling,” he says, slightly bitterly. He isn't exactly jealous of Klinger, but then again who wouldn't want to go down for Lundqvist, even if he is a goalie?

Klinger must sense something of that frustration as he frowns. “But you’re not going to... I mean,” his voice drops to a whisper, “Marchand isn’t a dom, right?”

“Ha, no,” Tyler shakes his head. Marchy's as bratty a sub as they came. “No, on the Bruins it was always Bergy or Zee you went to if you needed a dom.” And they had probably sent Marchy off with a blistered backside after his latest suspension, not that it would do anything to suppress his attitude.

“So, do you have any plans to find someone?” Klinger asks, almost casually enough to seem uninterested.

Tyler shrugs anyway. He hadn't planned on it and, even now he is thinking about it, he isn't sure he's going to get the opportunity. But that's too depressing to discuss and besides, they didn't get much of a chance to gossip sub-to-sub so he leans over, changing the subject and asks, “Anyway, tell me, was Lundqvist the strongest dom on Team Sweden?”

Klinger looks both amused and thoughtful. “It was probably Backstrom to be honest.”

Tyler nods. That makes sense, Backstrom is the one who has to keep Ovi in line after all. Not that he knows Ovi’s dynamic. Russians don't tend to spread that information around and, while there might be an expectation on hockey players, especially captains, to be big strong doms, it wasn’t always true and with someone like Ovi it was hard to tell.

Most of the time the only difference being a sub really meant for hockey was that it was harder to pick up during the season, since most doms didn't appreciate seeing someone else's bruises, and you’d get chirped in the locker room if you weren’t careful about what marks they left or who caught you at it. Even if he wasn't actually a sub, as dominant a personality as Ovi had, it didn’t take much to see Backstrom was the one in charge there. But Russia was still funny about that sort of thing; he'd seen enough from Nuke and now Rads to know that.

“How about Team Canada?” Klinger asks. “I guess there were a few conflicts there, when you played.”

“Crosby and Giroux, you mean? They weren’t so bad actually.” Sure they’d butted heads a few times but that tended to happen when you put two competitive alphas, both used to being in charge, on a team together. 

“So did you?" Klinger glances over to the team staff but they still seem engrossed in their work. "You know, with anyone on the team?”

“Nah, most everyone on Team Canada was already paired off,” Tyler says. Not that he hadn't found someone anyway. Klinger looks kind of disappointed so Tyler decides to go for it; he lowers his voice, “But you know who else was there?” He pauses for dramatic effect and Klinger leans in closer. “Jagr,” he says.

“You didn’t?” Klinger exclaims. Tyler shushes him as the interns glances over and he lowers his voice again to continue, “Really? Was he as good as everyone says?”

“Better,” Tyler leans back with a smile. He has very fond memories of that tournament.

Klinger looks suitably impressed. For a moment Tyler thinks he is going to ask for details he isn’t sure he wants to share but instead Klinger returns to his original question, “So have you got anything planned for this weekend?”

Tyler hadn’t even thought to look at the possibilities. He doesn’t need to go down regularly the way some did, and it hasn’t been that long since their bye week, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling the pressure of their push for a playoff spot. Still, he isn’t going to admit to that. “Not especially,” he says instead.

“Are you going to get to go down at all?” Klinger sounds almost pitying.

Tyler shrugs. “Probably not.” Last year Webs had been there, that was good. He pauses remembering how good it had been; Webs was strong enough to hold him down however much he struggled. P K could do it but he was too nice: if Tyler was going to go to a dom he wanted them to be a little mean. He could get nice from Jamie, if he needed it. “Maybe Giroux,” he says.

“Not Crosby?” Klinger gives him his best appealing look, but Tyler has three dogs so he’s somewhat immunised to the beseeching routine.

Instead Tyler smirks. “I reckon he’ll be too busy reuniting with Fleury.”

Klinger raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You think the two of them..?”

“Oh, for sure,” Tyler says, feeling a little smug. “In fact, I think it’s at least three of them - probably Letang and maybe even Nealer too.”

Klinger looks suitably intrigued and as they pause, both thinking about it, Tyler notices one of the PR assistants making a move towards them, tablet in hand. “Well, good luck with it anyway,” he says, indicating they were about to have company. Maybe it'll be a better weekend than he had anticipated.


	2. King of New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two hot Swedes - what more can you ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and those which follow) contains depictions of BDSM/kink which may not be representative of real life practice. Do your research before trying this at home. If you think any warnings are missing, please let me know. 
> 
> Obviously this contains real people in fictional situations, including passing mentions of real-life partners - turn back now if this is not for you.
> 
> There are some thoughts on world building in the end notes.

It had been a relief to get Henke’s text. John missed having someone on his team he could go to when it all got too much. Demers had been reliable, even if he wasn't really into the ‘call me Daddy’ thing he had going on, at least not outside of the locker room, and once he’d gone Sharpy had been willing to help him out but that had been last year. 

It had been good with Henke at the World Championships and John hoped it would help now. He was glad too that he wasn't going to have to be the one to approach Henke and ask for it, even if he ended up begging in private.

John gets to the hotel room first and isn’t sure what to do. This is different to meeting up in the summer at their own homes, and they hadn’t wanted to hook up when Dallas had played in New York figuring it would be either just before or just after a game in which they faced each other and they couldn’t afford the distraction or the lasting effect of their hormones. Of course, it had ended up being Pavelec in net after all.

Now though John craves the distraction. There was only so long he could take the pressure of the constant chatter about being the highest scoring d-man and a potential Norris candidate without going out of his mind. 

Of course, no-one expected him to keep the scoring up or to actually win and, though it was never said outright that it was due to his dynamic, John was well aware of what they meant even couched in terms of his ‘lack of experience,’ as though he hadn’t been playing professionally for four years before coming over to the NHL, or the award belonging to a ‘traditional defenceman.’

There have been subs in the NHL for decades now and for the most part it isn’t a big deal but people still prefer to be able to ignore it. Or to judge, depending on the press you read. It wasn’t fun for someone like Tyler, having his every move, every social media post analysed, but when you were 180 soaking wet, it didn’t make much difference, people made assumptions anyway. Still, John liked to know that he could take whatever a dom could dish out; that he wouldn’t break, whatever people said.

In the end John unpacks and takes a shower to wash off the plane journey and the Tampa heat, already worse than Dallas. He heads down to the bar where he finds OEL and they spend an hour catching up before Henke shows up.

They don't talk much about the season, since the 'Yotes are struggling so badly, but instead about the All-Star game itself, since it was Olle’s second time, and about Team Sweden's chances at the Olympics. Olle shares John's jealousy over Carl getting to play and Henke arrives to share his own frustration.

They get another drink but it must be obvious to Olle that he doesn't have either of their full attention as he makes his excuses. John and Henke head back to their room soon after, Henke’s hand on the small of John's back when they are alone in the elevator. They talked a lot over the summer so they know where they’re compatible and don't waste time now.

Once they are alone, Henke lets John kneel at his feet, the other man’s hand at the nape of John’s neck as he rests his hand on Henke’s thigh. Even from this John can feel the tension starting to unwind. He knows Henke can wait, will wait as long as he needs this, but it doesn't take him long before it isn't enough. He doesn't even realise he has shifted before Henke is already taking his hand away.

John whines in complaint but Henke gently hushes him. “My hand or the paddle?” Henke asks.

John closes his eyes. He can almost feel the echo of the spanking Henke had given him over the summer and it had been so good. “Your hand, please, sir,” he says, suddenly dry-mouthed in anticipation.

He can hear the satisfaction in Henke’s voice as he asks, “And after that? My belt or the flogger?"

There is something gratifying in Henke's assumption that he will be able to take more and John licks his lips, already feeling hazy. Either sounds good, and right now he just wants to give up control. “Please, you decide.”

“And your safeword?” Henke asks steadily, even though he knows it already.

“Frolunda,” John confirms.

“Good.” There is a pause and, even with his eyes closed, John can feel the weight of Henke looking at him. “Take off your clothes,” Henke says, tone broaching no argument, not that John would have been able to muster one at this point, not when he is so close to getting what he needs.

John strips while Henke sits and watches, hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair. He takes the time to fold his clothes and put them on the side, knowing Henke likes him to look after his things then kneels at Henke’s feet again. Henke is always perfectly composed and it’s so easy for John to obey him.

“Cross your wrists behind your back,” Henke tells him, then starts by gripping John's hair tightly, tugging it to encourage him to expose his throat, and John is glad he's kept it long enough for this. The vulnerability of his position, naked while Henke is still in his perfect suit, and the chill of the room's air conditioning against his bare skin, tips him steadily into subspace. 

As he starts to go under, Henke encourages him up over his lap. “Just hold still for me. I’m going to warm you up.” Henke doesn't hold back even so, solid blows raining down on his buttocks and thighs, one, two, a dozen... Henke is strict with it, stopping every time John tries to fidget, but praises him when he doesn’t flinch and John soaks up every word of it. 

Henke is impassive, seemingly unaffected and, when John starts to get hard, Henke simply pauses to warns him, “You better not to make a mess of my trousers,” before continuing at the same pace. John can't stop the sweet friction where his cock is rubbing against the soft fabric but he wants to be good so he tries to take deep breaths between blows and let's the growing ache of being denied push him deeper under. 

John is pretty far down already by the time Henke moves him to lean over the arm of the chair and grip the opposite side, obeying without thinking about it. Then he hears the slight hiss of Henke pulling off his belt. John moans in anticipation and tries not to squirm, knowing Henke will wait until he's still. 

The first hit is a flash of pain which quickly fades, the second lights him up as he gets to that calm place in his head where he knows he can take it, trusts Henke not to cause him any harm, and he feels the last of his tension drain away.

He doesn’t even try to count the blows, just lets the rhythm lull him into that perfect space where nothing else matters but being good for his dom. If he’s still hard, he doesn’t even realise, content to let his dom make this decision for him too. He doesn't register the tears blurring his vision except as a vague sensation of dampness.

In that headspace he barely notices when it’s over, time stretching out like molasses, until Henke manoeuvres him onto the bed and he is pressed up against him. At some point Henke has stripped out of his suit and John is slightly sad he didn’t get to watch but he hopes he will have the chance to see later.

He starts to come back up as Henke encourages him to sip some fruit juice, cool from the minibar. Once he is more lucid, Henke insists on checking him over but is happy with what he finds. “Didn’t even break the skin,” he says, with some pride, as he runs a hand over John’s tender ass. "Any sharp pain?" He presses down on a particularly sensitive spot and John shudders at the combination of pain and pleasure.

Despite still riding the endorphin high, John knows he would be able to tell if anything was wrong so he shakes his head. Now though he is becoming aware of his arousal, and the evidence of Henke’s pressing against his leg. John wiggles his ass against him and Henke gives him another swat, this time to the side of his thigh, avoiding the already marked skin.

“Please, sir,” he says. He knows Henke wouldn’t actually fuck him during a scene but hopes he can be persuaded to rub off against him, or even just jerk off over him, now they’re done.

“Is that what you want?” Henke asks, sounding amused, but also a little breathless, as though he is actually close. He leans in so close John can feel his breath against his cheek. “You want me to come on you?”

The thought of being claimed in that way is enticing but at the same time John is comfortable and doesn’t really want to move. Still he does want to see Henke come, to know he's given him that, so he says, “Yes, please. Come on me, sir. Over my abs…”

Henke moves away and John rolls onto his back, gasping at the fresh pressure against his ass. He struggles to keep his eyes open as Henke kneels up over him, stroking his cock with a steady rhythm until he finally comes all over John’s stomach and chest. John feels the last of his tension unwind with the relief there is nothing more he need do to satisfy his dom.

He could come but it isn’t a pressing need and at this point he’d almost rather clean up and then go to bed, knowing he’s going to sleep deeply tonight.

John takes the first shower then lets Henke massage ointment into his bruises and welts as he drifts off. He hears the shower start but is asleep before Henke makes it back into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World building notes (also an outline of which of the conventions of the AU I'm following)
> 
> Most people in this world identify with a dynamic (mainly dominant and submissive), which is considered somewhere between real-life gender and sexuality in terms of to what extent people believe it is binary and immutable (mostly) and also to what extent this belief is true (not especially).
> 
> Additionally, while these dynamics (and the corresponding headspaces) are measurable, there is still some prejudice towards those who go against stereotype (female dominants, male submissives, switches in general).
> 
> In a world like this, bisexuality is somewhat more common and accepted than in the real world but it remains fairly  
> heteronormative in that people are still ultimately expected to marry a partner of the opposite sex and dynamic. 
> 
> I'm more than happy to discuss the world in more detail in comments or you can find me on Tumblr too.


	3. Boston's Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler finds his Dom for the weekend and it's not who he's expecting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilery information about this chapter in the end notes - if you are sensitive to consent and/or negotiation issues, you may want to check. If you feel any additional warnings are required, please let me know.

Not long after their arrival in Tampa, Tyler is distracted by press and puppies before he can make any headway into finding a partner so he ends up spending Friday night just catching up with Marchy.

He doesn’t often miss Boston - there was plenty that happened there which was shitty - but he misses having a fellow sub he can talk to about anything. Marchy had done his best to be a mentor to him but when it came down to it he wasn’t even four years older.

Tyler feels a little guilty that he hasn’t made the effort to spend more time with Klinger but, now he knows he’s willing to gossip, he promises himself that will change. The rest of the guys in Dallas are great but it isn’t the same. Rous might remind him a lot of Marchy but as a switch he doesn’t quite get it and they don't have any subs in their latest call ups, though there are a couple in Cedar Park.

They open the bottles from the minibar and sit back on one of the beds, the TV playing some reality show in the background. Tyler knows better that to beat around the bush with Marchy so asks, “Any plans for the weekend? I’ve been told I should try harder to get laid.”

Marchy laughs and nudges him in the ribs encouragingly, “Of course, you’d better find yourself a dom for the weekend. I’m gonna hit up Tavares, you don’t wanna end up sitting in here on your own.” 

Tyler wrinkles his nose, JT is way too nice for his liking, though exactly the sort of dom Marchy likes to have wrapped around his finger. Then again, Tyler doesn’t have someone like Bergy keeping him in line back home. “That’s very confident of you,” he teases. “What if you strike out?”

“Naw, we sorted it out after the game last week.” Marchy gives him a dirty wink, “I got him all riled up ready.”

Tyler can’t help laughing. “Okay then, sounds like you’re covered. So, what about me?”

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” Marchy lounges back and looks pensive. “Plenty of choice here...”

Tyler scrunches up his nose in disagreement. "I have standards, you know."

"Do you even know what that means?" Marchy sounds disdainful, though Tyler knows he's only teasing.

"Fuck you, what do you know?" he returns. "I mean, Tavares, honestly." Tyler shakes his head as he pushes Marchy away but he can't help grinning anyway. He knows the two of them been hooking up on and off since they played together at World Juniors; Marchy likes to say that he's too much for any one dom to handle.

Marchy shoves him back. "You want someone to push you around?" he asks, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Someone who'll be a bit mean but cuddle with you afterwards? That does limit your choices."

He knows Tyler so well, he can't bring himself to object. "Exactly," Tyler whines. "And all the best ones are taken..."

"So, I reckon you have three choices, unless you want to check out which of the other Tampa players are still in town." He counts them off on his fingers, "Eichs, though he's a bit young. Giroux maybe, he's looking hot right now, or else MacK might be interested, I don't know if he's pretty enough for you though."

Tyler elbows him in the ribs in response and dodges the return blow. Well, it seems he said the right name to Klinger in the first place. "So G then?"

"Go for it," Marchy says approvingly and then their conversation devolves into chirping about their last game and Tyler’s bye week hook-up ending up on TMZ.

The next day Tyler manages to find a quiet moment with Giroux during media availability. He can see immediately from Giroux's expression that he's out of luck but G at least turns him down gently saying, “I’m engaged now. I don't do casual hookups anymore.”

Tyler must look disappointed or maybe more desperate than he’d realised as Giroux grabs his wrist as he tries to turn away. “Have you tried Holtby?” Giroux suggests. “I hear his wife’s more open-minded. He might be willing.” 

“Sure, thanks,” Tyler says, though Holtby’s not exactly to his taste, goaltenders are weird, but he doesn’t have a lot of options left.

Tyler doesn’t get a chance to ask before the Skills Competition starts, which is for the best as he has a revelation. Watching Knighter demolish the accuracy contest makes him want to go to his knees for her there and then. He’s glad his event is already over as he feels a little dizzy already.

It takes a couple of beers after the competition, and a lot of ribbing from Marchy, who offers to make the introductions, "Since she's a fellow Boston player..." for Tyler to work up the nerve to approach her.

He asks as casually as he can if she’d be interested but he probably doesn't end up hiding his enthusiasm very well. Fortunately Knighter seems more amused than not as she agrees. 

Tyler doesn't bother saying goodnight to Marchy given he'd left him basically in Tavares’ lap. Hopefully they’ll go back to JT’s room or else be done by the time he gets back.

Knighter takes him back to her room. It has two beds but he doesn’t know if she has a roommate and isn’t sure how to bring it up. Instead Tyler flops down onto one of them and bats his eyelashes at her.

Knighter just smirks at him. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

Tyler shrugs. “I can be whatever you want.”

Knighter rolls her eyes but she looks entertained. “I can put you over my knee if you really want but I think that’d be a waste of both of our times. How about instead you tell me two or three things you really like?”

That's more like what he wants. Tyler sits back up. “I wanna eat you out,” he says.

“You can definitely do that,” she tells him. “Anything else? What gets you off?”

“I like having my nipples played with”, Tyler admits, his words coming out softly. “And, can you… tell me when I can come?” He can already feel her dominance asserting itself, making him want to submit.

She nods thoughtfully. “Any hard limits?

There were plenty of things Tyler wasn't into - any kind of sensory deprivation, hardcore whips and chains but, “Nothing that's coming to come up in casual play.”

“Alright." She takes a deep breath and Tyler quivers in anticipation. "Stoplights work for you?”

“Sure. But uh,” he hopes he's not overstepping, “what if my mouth’s busy?” He waggles his tongue, as though there was any doubt what he meant.

Knighter gives him a hungry smile. “Double tap on my thigh?"

Tyler nods and licks his lips, he is really looking forward to this.

"Now," she says, "how about you take off your clothes for me?”

He can’t help but making a little show out of stripping, trying to get a reaction out of her more than unimpressed but vaguely entertained. Tyler knows he looks good but right now he’s desperate for her validation.

She looks him up and down slowly and deliberately and Tyler shudders under the pressure as she says, “Such a pretty boy.”

They’ve barely gotten started and already Tyler feels as though he’s shaking apart. He had thought he’d been coping. He’d even hooked up over the bye week but, as good as Summer had been, she had nothing on Knighter. How does she know exactly what to say to make him go under?

Most of the doms he picked up were either only interested in quick and hard or, when they bothered with praise, seemed to take pleasure in humiliating him in the process. It never upset him exactly but it got tiring after a while. Knighter’s praise, on the other hand, was making him feel cherished.

Tyler sits down on the bed as she instructs him, “On your back, keep your arms at your sides.”

He lies back while she strips off quickly and efficiently. Tyler lets his tongue poke out, the tip brushing over his top lip. Knighter laughs, “Don’t worry, I’m going to put that to good use.”

She puts a leg on either side of his head and the thought of being trapped by her powerful thighs had him hard already. "Color?" she asks, checking in as she lowers herself down over him.

"So very green," Tyler says, as he gets to work. She’s so wet, and the scent of her musk and her taste are really doing it for him. 

Knighter directs him with a hand in his hair and plenty of praise and encouragement. Tyler feels like he's floating with it, knowing he's doing exactly what she wants and only has to think about making sure he takes enough deep breaths each time she pulls back, but Knighter is careful not to make him wait too long. It feels like only seconds, or maybe hours, until she comes. Tyler doesn’t stop until she pulls away, his face damp with her juices.

She looks down at his dick and smiles. “You can hold out a little longer? Keep being good for me?”

Tyler nods, biting his lip, he can wait as long as she wants if she’s going to keep calling him good like that.

For a moment she just looks at him and he finds himself holding his breath. Then she reaches into the side table and pulls out a condom. She slips the condom onto his dick and holds herself over him, teasing him. Tyler reaches for her hips but she pushes his hands away, pressing his wrists back down onto the bed. “No touching. I know you can be good.” When she slides down onto him, it’s practically a religious experience. 

Tyler clenches the sheet in his fists as Knighter rides him, bites down on his tongue, as he struggles to keep himself from coming until she gives him permission. She digs well-trimmed fingernails into his pecs, pinches his nipples then twists them, and Tyler writhes under the sweetness of the pain.

When she finally does allow him to come it’s so intense everything whites out for a few seconds. He opens eyes he hadn’t realised he had closed to see her rubbing herself to orgasm. His mouth is dry and he pants until she presses damp fingers against his lips and he sucks on them, relishing her taste.

Knighter gets up and Tyler tenses, hoping she isn’t about to send him away, Instead she comes back with a bottle of water and puts an arm round his shoulder. "You were so good, baby," she says. "I'm really proud of you. Was that what you wanted?"

Tyler nods then closes his eyes as she strokes his head, the last of his tension finally evaporating as he basks in the aura of satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene which takes place following the consumption of alcohol (though there is no indication the characters are impaired in their consent by this) and is very cursorily negotiated - the implication is that within the world certain boundaries are assumed for 'casual' scening and the parties involved confirm their intentions in this regard - explicit consent is not given for all individual acts though both characters are shown to be consenting.


	4. Viva Las Vegas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pens and former Pens are reunited. Sex (and feelings) follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been very consistent with nickname use in this chapter. In case you're confused (or are reading this without recognising the people involved):
> 
> Flower = Marc-André Fleury  
> Nealer/Jamie = James Neal  
> Sid = Sidney Crosby  
> Kris/Tanger = Kris Letang

Flower has Nealer kneeling between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed, a familiar enough sight over the past few months. The view of Sid and Tanger across the room is, sadly, not so much. Flower has missed them but tells himself he can be patient now. Last night, their first night reunited, they had just cuddled but now they are ready for more.

Sid is bent over the other bed, his beautiful ass fully on display, as Flower encourages Kris to put some force into his blows. “Is this what you give him when I’m not around?" he teases. "No wonder you’re having a bad year.”

Kris glares at him but starts to put a bit more effort in. Sid makes the prettiest noises as his ass gradually turns pink. Nealer’s eyes are closed, his face blissfully relaxed as he softly sucks on Flower’s dick. Still Flower isn’t going to come just from that; doesn’t want to waste the gift he’s been given of this weekend.

Tanger’s arm is starting to look tired so he says, “Last ten blows, Sid babe, you can take that, non?” When Sid nods, he tells Tanger, “Ease him down”, and gets a glare for his efforts but Kris obliges. Still Flower doesn’t doubt he’ll find his own way of getting back at him later. He almost looks forward to Tanger trying, their prank wars in Pittsburgh had been fun and he only has Nealer in Vegas who really appreciates his efforts.

Speaking of, he pulls on Nealer’s hair until he leans back, eyes unfocused. “You going to be good for me, Jamie?” Flower asks. “You want to make Sid feel good, get him ready for me?”

Nealer looks dazed as he licks his lips. This is only the second time he’s been with them all together but he’s a fast learner. Flower isn’t certain who he’d been scening with in Nashville but it clearly hadn't been serious and the two of them had found comfort in being thrown together in Vegas.

“What about me?” Tanger complains with a pout.

“You get Nealer’s ass and a front row seat to Sid getting rimmed,” Flower promises. “Isn’t that right, Jamie?”

Nealer nods and, though Tanger grumbles, he helps pull Nealer to his feet, already dizzy with subspace. They get him situated on his hands and knees so he can eat Sid out while Tanger fucks him and Flower sits on the edge of the bed next to them. Nealer holds Sid’s asscheeks apart and starts with delicate licks until Tanger begins to finger him open.

Flower can tell Nealer is properly getting going when Sid starts to make noises. Nealer is more about enthusiasm here than skill but Flower knows how sensitive Sid’s ass is so he doesn’t stop him. Nealer pulls back when Tanger pulls his fingers out. He doesn’t get a chance to complain though before Tanger’s fucking into him. Nealer’s mouth hangs open, letting out small whines with each thrust.

“Don’t forget about Sid,” Flower chides.

Nealer gets his mouth back on Sid’s hole but he’s even sloppier now and Flower can hear the slick sound of it. He doesn’t think he could get any harder but still he waits and watches. Kris doesn’t hold back, doesn’t enjoy the anticipation the way Flower does, and Nealer reaches for his dick until Flower slaps his hand away.

“Uh-uh,” he says, “I know you can cum just from being fucked. Let Kris get you there.”

Nealer whines but then Tanger manages to get the angle right and Flower can tell that is doing it for him as his eyes roll back. Flower turns to Sid, “You going to cum from Nealer’s mouth?” he asks. “Or would that be too much?” Sometimes Sid liked getting fucked when he was still oversensitive from his first orgasm, other times not so much.

But now he nods enthusiastically. “Please, Flower,” he gasps.

“Can’t wait to have you, all fucked out and sloppy, so easy for me,” Flower tells him. Sid whines deep in his throat, as though he’s being denied a treat, when Flower starts to jack his own dick right in Sid’s eyeline.

“Come on, babe,” he encourages and leans in to kiss Tanger. Tanger grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in, dominating the kiss, biting at his lip and his tongue too when Flower pushes into his mouth. Tanger might be willing to let him call the shots to a current extent, especially given his victory this evening in the shootout competition, but never lets Flower forget he likes to be in control too.

Nealer is starting to make noises of his own, Tanger pulls back from Flower, slowing down. “Ah non, mon cheri,” he tells him, “you don’t get to cum until Sid does.”

Flower shares an approving smile with his fellow dom before watching as Nealer redoubles his efforts and Sid’s flush spreads from the back of his neck. He knows Sid’s going to need more, unable to cum untouched, but he’s enjoying watching Nealer struggling to hold back his own orgasm, squirming, his knuckles white against Sid’s thighs.

Tanger evidently decides he wants to be mean as he adjusts his angle, clearly aiming for Nealer’s sweet spot and getting it. Nealer stops even trying and starts begging instead and, after a couple of minutes, Flower takes pity on him and presses up against Sid’s side, reaching under to give him a hand.

It isn't long after that until Sid’s cumming, and he slumps down on the bed. Flower kisses his neck and shoulders, enjoying Nealer's increasingly frantic pleading.

Tanger doesn't change his pace but Flower can see he's getting close. He gives his own dick a few strokes as he meets Tanger’s eyes and deliberately swipes his tongue over the spot where Tanger had bitten his lip.

Tanger swears at him and cums. He stills for several moments, his chest heaving, before Nealer complains and Tanger replaces his dick with three fingers. “You can cum whenever you want,” he says, almost nonchalantly, and it doesn't take Nealer long at all to finish after that.

By the time the two of them are recovered enough to move, Flower has Sid on his back, knees pulled up towards his chest. He slides in, Sid going so easy for him, and fucks him like that, maintaining eye contact as Sid gasps and shudders around him.

He loves Sid’s lips and bends over now to kiss him. Sid’s mouth is lax and Flower enjoys his taste as he deepens the kiss. Flower grabs the back of Sid’s neck, holding him in place, fingers tangled in his short hair. Sid moans as Flower sucks on his tongue and he pulls away.

Flower twists his hips as he thrusts, trying to coax more noises out of Sid. He wasn't necessarily expecting Sid to get hard again but it's flattering to watch his dick twitch as it tries to.

Nealer wriggles up the bed to lie against Sid and Flower hears Kris go into the bathroom and run some water. Sid turns his head so he can kiss Nealer and Flower is treated to a close up show.

He rests a hand on Nealer’s hip and waits for his eyes to blink into focus. “You gonna help me out here, Jamie?” he urges him. Nealer nods and Flower guides him to hold Sid’s leg up for him, allowing him to get a better angle.

He's pretty wound up from watching earlier and the sounds Sid is making so it doesn't take much longer before Flower is losing his rhythm, chasing his completion. Sid is tight around him when he finally cums and Flower jerks him to a second orgasm as he softens still inside him.

Kris comes back with a warm washcloth and, while Flower goes to dispose of the condom, helps clean up Sid and then Nealer. “Where’s mine?” he demands.

Kris throws the now filthy cloth at him. “Voilà ici.”

“Calisse de tabarnak,” Flower swears. Kris is too far away to kick so he just flips him off.

Sid makes a complaining noise and they both turn to see him and Nealer snuggled up together. Flower looks down at them fondly. Nealer meets his gaze and gives him a pitiful look.

“What do you want, mon minou?” Flower croons.

“Gatorade?” Jamie asks.

“Still so lazy,” Tanger teases but he goes to get the drink and some of the finger food they’d ordered from room service earlier.

Flower perches on the edge of the bed where he can pet both of their hair. Sid turns his head to press a kiss to Flower’s fingers and Flower feels a wave of fondness towards him, one of his oldest friends. Kris sits on the other side and Nealer opens his mouth to be hand-fed.

It is so domestic, Flower's hearts aches. He misses Pittsburgh, misses moments like this on every roadie, but having Jamie's familiar face on the Knights helps. It had been hard at the beginning, working out how to fit in with a new team, especially when he'd been out so long with the concussion, but Nealer hadn't let him keep his distance, had wheedled his way past Flower's defences, his years in Nashville reminding Flower it was possible to be happy somewhere else. Still, now he has this back, he doesn't want it to end.


	5. L.A. Confidential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auston Matthews is recruiting; Drew might be persuaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of a change in pace. It was inspired by Matthews apparent pitch over the All-Star Weekend for Doughty to go to Toronto: “I recruited him a little bit. He didn’t bite,” Matthews said. “I said: ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ He said: ‘Good.’ I said, ‘Are you coming to Toronto?’ He just laughed and skated away.”
> 
> I debated warnings for this chapter but it moved again from my original plans and I don't feel any should be necessary. Still, if you are sensitive to consent issues, please check the end notes for further details (contains spoilers).

When Matthews initially approaches him with some spiel about how good it is to play in Toronto, Drew just laughs and skates away. About the point the kid corners him in the bar after the skills competition, Drew starts to believe he might be serious.

“Even if you make the playoffs this year, you know you’re not going to make it out of the West,” Matthews says. “The Central’s stacked this year.” 

It’s not very flattering but the kid’s probably right. Drew sighs. “You know I’m not a free agent until next year?”

“Sure, but you can negotiate from July 1,” Matthews shrugs. “If you really wanted to come to Toronto, I’m sure the Kings would rather work out a trade than lose you for nothing.”

He isn’t wrong and, though it was bending the rules, Drew is pretty sure someone must have put the kid up to this for him to keep pushing. “Okay then, you’ve said your piece.” He goes to turn away but is stopped by a hand on his elbow.

“What do I need to do to convince you?” Matthews asks, head tilted back to expose his throat as though he was flirting.

Drew had been pretty sure Matthews was actually a dom but he is intrigued now, wondering how far he would take it. “I could be persuaded,” he says, dropping his voice and stepping into the kid’s personal space.

Matthews flinches and swallows hard but holds his ground. Still, his body language seems to confirm Drew’s suspicions.

Drew gives Matthews his room number, telling him. “Give me half an hour. And bring a bucket of ice.” Matthews shudders again and Drew won’t be surprised if he doesn’t show but he hopes anyway.

He sends a text to Smitty asking him to stay out late as he heads back to the room and lays his supplies out on the second bed: cuffs, rope, a blindfold, a couple of candles and a lighter, a pinwheel, a paddle, a pack of needles, lube and condoms; so sue him, he’d been hopeful when he’d packed - it had been a while.

He has no intention of forcing Matthews to do anything but it'll be fun to see how far he can push him, if he doesn’t just freak out at the sight of his equipment.

The knock isn’t hesitant but when Drew answers, no sense in risking it being a different teammate - he doesn’t want to have to explain this to Kopi - Matthews seems reluctant to come in.

“You can walk away at any point,” Drew reminds him.

Matthews lifts his chin. “I’m not afraid.” 

Drew shrugs. He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though Matthews has only just stepped inside the room. “So,” he says, indicating the items laid out. “See anything you like?”

Matthews hesitates, then makes his way over to take a closer look. Drew can tell he isn’t enthusiastic but he gives Matthews credit for going through with it.

He sits down on the other bed, trying to look casual as he says, “So, I figure we should negotiate what you're willing to do...”

Matthews picks up the pinwheel nervously then puts it back down again. “Sure. I guess… I don’t really know…” He bites his lip and Drew wonders how experienced he is on the other side of this.

“I don’t have to use any of it,” Drew says. “A good dom doesn’t need any fancy equipment.”

Matthews gives him a sharp glance, as though he thinks it was a direct chirp. “Did you bring all this with you? Or did you go out and buy this just for me?” He holds up a candle with a dubious look.

“I had it already.” Drew looks at Matthews’ tense shoulders and decides to try to lighten the mood, teasing, “You can't just use any candle, you know. Jesus, what do they teach you kids these days?” He shakes his head but doesn’t try to hide his smile.

Matthews’ lips twitch as though he knows it's meant as a joke but can't quite unwind enough to laugh. He hesitates over the paddle, and Drew spares a moment to consider how good the kid would look marked up but he suspects it would be too difficult to explain in the locker room.

“You don't have to agree to anything you don't want,” Drew reminds him.

Matthews nods distracted, as he brushes his fingers against the rope, then baulks when he gets to the needles. “That's a hard no,” he says, giving him a nervous sideways look. “Definitely no blood.”

“Sure,” Drew says easily and Matthews relaxes a little.

He’s reached the end of the toys and looks up at Drew, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I guess you’re into sensation play then. I can do that.” Matthews nods as though he’s trying to convince himself.

“Good to hear,” Drew says. He should probably push the kid for more specifics but, now Matthews is here, Drew doesn't want to scare him off too soon. “I’m gonna need your safeword,” he tells him instead.

Matthews bites his lip. “Can’t I just say no?”

Drew shrugs. “Sure, if that’s easier for you.” It’s a bit weird, but a lot of doms don’t consider having a safeword of their own, so not entirely unreasonable. “And what about if you just want to slow down?”

“Traffic lights then?” Matthews meets his eyes directly for the first time and there's something there which makes Drew want to push.

“That works," Drew agrees. The two of them just stare at each other for a moment until he says, "Okay, kid, strip.”

Matthews takes a deep breath then pulls off his clothes with no particular finesse. After a lifetime of locker rooms, nudity isn’t a big deal to any of them, but Drew doesn’t often get the opportunity to sit back and watch. Matthews is no small, delicate sub but there is something satisfying about knowing he gets to control all that muscle.

He’s already spread a towel out on the bed and, when Matthews is done, Drew gestures to it. Matthews lies back cautiously and Drew takes another moment just to look him over. It's a pretty view, especially as Matthews starts to flush and shift nervously, as though he wants to cover himself.

"Put your hands above your head," Drew tells him. "Can you hold onto the headboard?"

Matthews reaches up and grabs hold, wrapping his fingers tightly round the wooden slats. His eyes start to glaze over and Drew wonders if he can actually get him into subspace. He doesn't let himself consider what that might mean as he continues, “I'm gonna blindfold you now. You want me to tie your wrists too or are you gonna keep them there for me?”

“I can do it myself,” Matthews says, almost too quickly.

Drew covers Matthews' eyes with the soft cloth, tying it carefully to one side so he isn't laying on it. He kneels on the edge of the bed, running a hand up Matthews' arm, feeling the tension ease out of him as he reaches his wrist and gently encircles it with his fingers. The kid has thick wrists Drew can't quite wrap his hand all the way round but he can still feel the steady pulse.

As Matthews starts to relax, Drew leans back to pick up an ice cube and starts by just letting the cold water drip onto his chest. When Matthews stops flinching at each individual drop, he takes a fresh cube and rubs it directly over his abs. It’s pretty hot watching them tighten but, though Matthews’ breathing gets faster, he doesn’t move.

Drew moves the ice cube over his nipples, listening as his breathing starts to even out and watching his fingers loosen their grip on the slats of the headboard. If Matthews were his submissive, Drew would think it a good sign, but he isn't quite sure what to make of it here. Still, his reactions are everything he could have hoped for so Drew moves on, sliding a fresh cube over the sensitive insides of Matthews' thighs.

Though he doesn't pull away, from the way Matthews is trembling, Drew figures the kid's pretty close to his limit but he's getting hard at the control he has over him. As a last push, Drew submerges his hand into the ice water for a slow count of ten then wraps it around Matthews’ dick. He arches his back in an attempt to get away, his mouth hanging open, but doesn't speak before Drew lets go.

“So good for me,” he says, awed by his easy submission and Matthews settles back down. Drew is starting to have doubts about the kid's dynamic but this isn't the time to think about it.

Drew gives him a few moments to recover while he preps the next part, palming his cock through his shorts before pulling off his own shirt. Matthews flinches again when he hears the click of the lighter. Drew hesitates; he doesn't want to stop already, “You never done any wax play?”

Matthews shakes his head but takes a deep breath, tipping his head back and exposing his unmarked throat. Drew aches to lay his claim, even as he knows he doesn't have that right. He forces his attention back to the moment.

He doesn’t think Matthews will be able to take much of the heat, but he wants to watch him try. Contrary to what the kid probably expects, Drew doesn’t want to push him to safeword. He’d much prefer to expand his limits than to cross them.

He lets the wax drip onto Matthew’s toned stomach, enjoying the way his abs twitch. “That’s it,” he says. “You’re doing so well.”

Drew repeats it on the other side and Matthews’ lips move but no sound comes out.

“Something you need to say to me?” Drew prompts him, seeing how his fingers have tightened, his knuckles white.

“Yellow,” Matthews manages this time, barely a whisper.

Drew pulls back regretfully. “Too much?” He had a lot more he would have liked to do but this was already more than he had dared actually hope for.

Matthews nods. “I’m sorry.” His voice wavers.

Drew might not be able to meet the kid’s eyes but he can't let that pass unacknowledged. Who the fuck taught him it was acceptable to apologise for safewording? He tries to keep his tone low and reassuring, “You have nothing to apologise for. Being so good, doing just what I asked you to do.”

“You don't have to stop. I'm good now,” Matthews said, his cheeks flushed and Drew can't resist that. Still, he puts the candle aside for now.

Instead Drew scratches his nails lightly across Matthews’ chest, leaving faint red lines in his wake, then again harder. By the time Drew runs fingernails across his pebbled nipples, Matthews is panting and Drew feels his cock twitch in his own shorts at the way the kid seems so into it.

He wants more though and moves onto his thighs, working from the outside inwards before rubbing a finger down between Matthews’ cheeks, and pressing a knuckle against his taint. Matthews shudders, almost flinching away.

“Are you a virgin?” Drew asks, without thinking. He probably shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow he was, the kid was so responsive he could hardly believe he had never done this before. “You want me to stop?”

Matthews shakes his head but, as Drew pushes the tip of a finger into his ass, Matthews lets out a whine and tries to move away. It isn’t his safeword though, and Drew has given him the opportunity, so he pushes further even as he says, “Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck you dry, just try to relax for me.”

He's flattered when Matthews does relax a little. Whether he's actually in subspace or not, it suggests he trusts him, or at least understands enough to know Drew wouldn't be into hurting himself. Drew pulls his finger out and encourages the kid to roll onto his side; he wouldn't be able to see his face this way but it would be easier for what he had planned next.

Not that he’s not going to enjoy himself with the next part regardless. Drew pulls on a latex glove then coats two fingers in his special lube before returning to Matthews' hole and pressing one back in. He doesn’t react immediately but then the tingling sensation clearly sets in and he lets out a strangled gasp. Drew smiles.

He takes his time working Matthews open, enjoying the way he cycles through relaxing and then tensing again as the lube works its magic. If he wasn't so hard, Drew might have stopped at this, but who knows if he'll get another opportunity this good.

When he thinks the kid is ready, Drew finally strips off his shorts, exchanges the glove for a condom, and a more traditional lube. He pauses for a moment with the head of his cock snug against Matthew’s generous ass. “You want this?” he asks.

“Do it,” Matthews gasps. “Fuck me.”

Drew pushes in, as deep as he can with a single thrust. Matthews cries out and Drew pulls back to the tip to push in again, deeper this time. It goes like that until he is balls deep, Matthews taking shuddering breaths as he struggles to adjust.

Drew gives him a minute, then holds onto his hips and just fucks into him. He digs his fingertips in tight, let him take some marks back to show his teammates, his girlfriend even, if he has one.

It is almost a surprise when Matthews shudders, gasps, and cums untouched, ass clenching around Drew’s cock.

“You liked that?" Drew can't help but feel proud.

Matthews turns his face away into the pillow but Drew can see the flush spreading.

He pulls out and jerks off over the kid’s thick thighs. It is a pretty sight and maybe Toronto might be worth it if this was the deal he got out of it. Drew catches his breath, admiring the view, until he realises Matthews is still shaking and those were tears running down his cheeks from the blindfold.

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to make the kid cry. He wraps his arms around him from behind, gathering Matthews in close to his chest. “It's okay. It's okay. You were so good for me,” he croons and doesn't stop until Mathews stops shaking and his breathing evens out.

Once the kid is calmer, Drew fetches him a bottle of water. This might be an awkward conversation but he can't send Matthews away in this state. He doesn't think Matthews would welcome an arm over his shoulder, even if the physical contact might help, but the other bed is too far away so Drew ends up sitting at the foot whilst Matthews is propped up against the pillows at the head.

Drew waits until Matthews has drunk most of the water before broaching the subject. "You ever consider you might be a switch?" he asks.

Matthews looks oddly defensive as he says, “All my tests came out as dominant.” He doesn't meet Drew's eyes, twisting the bottle in his hands.

Which a switch could manage if they were trying to hide, since it wasn’t like hormonal sensitivity tests were common practice. “There's nothing to be ashamed of,” Drew tells him.

"Sure," Matthews sneers. "Tell me, how many switches have gone top three, let alone first overall?"

Not many, that was for sure, though some might just have kept it hidden too. And now Drew thinks about it, a lot of great undrafted players were switches and, when he considers those he’s played with, well, Richie was hardly a shining example.

Matthews evidently takes his silence as its own answer. "Exactly," he says.

"You could have told me." If he'd known, there were some things he might have done differently, then again, maybe he wouldn't have.

"I wasn't certain until..." Matthews hesitates.

"Until you went into subspace," Drew finishes. Christ, the kid really was a virgin; what a kick. He should probably tell him he is honoured to have been his first but Matthews looks uncomfortable with this line of conversation so Drew leers at him instead. "Lucky me."

Oddly that seems to make Matthews relax. "You won't tell anyone?" he says, meeting Drew's gaze.

It's more of a demand than a question so Drew shrugs as casually as he can manage. "Not my problem," he says.

"And if you end up in Toronto?"

Since that had, after all, been the point of their encounter, it's probably a fair question. Drew pretends to consider it for a moment but he isn't actually that much of an asshole. "I'm not gonna out you." He gives Matthews an obvious once-over, "I might make this a standing invitation though."

Matthews flushes again, as he seems to register for the first time that he's still naked. "Whatever." He sits up, runs a hand over his face, then through his face and visibly pulls himself together. It's like watching him putting on armour, as his body language changes.

Drew doesn't say anything whilst Matthews gets dressed, watching his marks disappear under layers of clothing to fade away unseen. He waits until Matthews' hand is hovering over the door-handle to drop his final blow. "I'm serious about the standing invite," Drew tells him, enjoying seeing the crack in his facade. "I'd love the chance to hurt you some more."

Matthews shudders and doesn't answer, though his jaw clenches as he slips away. Drew lays back on the bed and smiles in satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves a character (Matthews), who identifies as a dominant, taking a submissive role in a sexual encounter. There is an implication that he does so under pressure from his team's management. The actual sexual encounter includes several check-ins where he gives explicit consent to the activities but, as the POV is the other character (Doughty), this could still be read as being given under coercion.
> 
> I am especially conscious that this scenario involves Doughty, who was the subject of real-life rape allegations in 2012, which might influence how the chapter is read and would advise any reader who is concerned to skip this.
> 
>  --
> 
> On a different note, this is the end of my All-Star weekend inspired chapters and, though I have some rough ideas for other stories within this 'verse, I have no immediate plans to write any more. However, if you have any thoughts or suggestions for further pairings, I welcome comments here or on my tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> All chapter titles taken from movies - I haven’t watched any of them so I don’t claim the contents to be in any way relevant


End file.
